


In Words And In Deeds

by friendlyneighborhoodirondad



Series: Medieval AU [2]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Gen, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-15
Updated: 2018-11-13
Packaged: 2019-07-29 18:32:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16269950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/friendlyneighborhoodirondad/pseuds/friendlyneighborhoodirondad
Summary: Tony and Peter's world is turned upside by new friends and foes. Their relationship is tested through words, combat, and... magic?





	1. A Heart Forged In Iron

**Author's Note:**

> This work is part of my Medieval AU series. I recommend reading the previous entry before reading this one. Thanks for reading my self indulgent fic! It's so much fun to write.

"...Sir?" 15 year old Prince Anthony asks, shyly scuffing the floor with his finely crafted work boots. He tries to hide something behind him, but it's hard when it's larger than his body.

King Howard spares a glance down at his son. His eyes sweep disinterestedly back to his project. "What is it?"

"I, uh, finished the sword you asked for."

That gets his attention. "Really? I seem to remember asking for that a while ago. What took you so long?"

Tony tries not to flinch at the full eye contact look of disapproval. "I-I took my time so it would be higher quality."

"If it takes this long for you to finish one sword, you need more practice," he says even as he holds out his hand expectantly. Tony passes his creation over and tries not to fidget as his father looks it over with a critical eye. "It looks good," he finally concedes, "but it's not perfectly balanced down the middle. I expect that to be fixed for next time."

"Yes, sir," Tony says, wearing a proud smile. Praise and only one criticism? He must have done really well.

"However," Howard continues, "cosmetics don't matter. What matters is how it fares in combat."

Tony nods excitedly. He loves watching the knights spar. He's not nearly competent enough with a sword and armor for war yet, but he hopes to get there soon.

"We'll have a sparring match at, say, noon tomorrow. I'll have the butler gather your equipment."

The breath escapes Tony's lungs as the realization of what's about to happen dawns on him. "Wait, I'm testing the sword?"

"Of course. It's high time you take your training to the next level. You're a Stark, after all. And Stark men are made of iron."

"But I-"

"But nothing. It's done. I want you suited up and ready to go at half past 11."

"Yes, sir."

He turns back to his work, done with his son. "You're dismissed, Anthony."

"Yes, sir."

~%~%~%~

Tony sweats in the full noon sun. The beams bounce off his barely worn armor, but the heat still roasts him from the inside out within his metal casing. But despite the sweat and the heat, he's still shaking so hard, his chain mail is rattling. He gnaws on his lip as Jarvis double checks that all his straps are secure. "There's nothing to be nervous about, Master Anthony," he says quietly so as not to be overheard by the other staff. King Howard doesn't allow any of the staff to get close to his son, claiming he doesn't want his son growing up soft. Tony loves Jarvis because he thinks those rules are nonsense. "Sir Franklin won't dare harm you. You're a royal."

"But he's not gonna go easy on me," Tony moans. "Everyone's gonna be watching. What if I do something wrong?"

"You're young. You're still learning. Getting things wrong is how you learn."

"But... Dad'll be mad."

Jarvis pauses and risks giving Tony a firm yet reassuring look. "Don't worry about what you can't help. His Majesty will never be satisfied with your performance."

"Wow, thanks," Tony rolls his eyes.

"Let me finish. His Majesty will never be satisfied because he wants to make you better."

The teen lowers his eyes. Even if that were the case... Even if his father cared... Why couldn't he just show it?

A boy around Tony's age runs over, ragged and breathless. "They're asking for you, your Highness."

Tony nods, and the boy runs off. Jarvis stands and steps back. "Good luck, Master Anthony. May God watch over you today."

"Thanks, J."

~%~%~%~

Tony shifts his grip on his sword. He was so proud of it yesterday. Now he's starting to wish he never finished it. One more good strike, and the match is over. But with the undesired outcome.

Jarvis was right. Sir Franklin hasn't hurt him. But he certainly hasn't gone easy on him. And then there's the added factor of the audience. Tony hates doing pretty much anything in front of his father or his court. They don't hesitate to correct him when he's wrong about the slightest thing. He's always on edge around them. So them watching him fail to block and parry over and over again is hacking his confidence apart with every swing of his sword.

Tony shakes his head, trying to shoo the negative thoughts clouding his mind. He zeros in on his sword and Sir Franklin's sword. Nothing else matters in this moment.

Sir Franklin steps forward with his left foot, telegraphing a swipe to Tony's left side. He brings his sword up in time to properly block the strike, but doesn't put enough force into it. His wrists can't keep Sir Franklin's sword from continuing it's path, so he darts out of its trajectory. He has trouble regaining his footing with all the heavy armor, so when the next blow comes, he's powerless to stop it.

The heavy clang of sword hitting armor rings throughout the small arena. When the reverberations fade, the only sound left is Tony's harsh panting. The judge calls the match, signalling the competitors to face the King and lift their face plates before bowing. Tony goes through the motions, "I'm screwed" being the only thing running through his head. 

The crowd applauds their efforts but quickly die off when King Howard stands from his seat. It's quiet for a moment before he says, "Thank you, Sir Franklin. You are dismissed."

Confusion crosses the knights face before he covers it up. "Thank you, your Majesty," he says before making his exit.

Tony grits his teeth and stays where he is. He didn't know what he was expecting, but whatever this is, it's worse. It's so much worse.

The King observes his son with an expressionless face for a few long moments. He then slowly makes his way down to the field to stand in front of Tony. His gaze drills deep into Tony's skull. "Prince Anthony," he gravely starts, "You disappoint me."

Tears prick at Tony's eyes. He's about to be reamed out by his father in front of the other members of the court. The mortification weights heavily on Tony's chest.

"I thought you were a man, but you're still a child. You're weak."

"Sir, I..." Tony rasps, his defenses trailing away as a tear spills over onto his cheek.

Then, going in for the kill, his father says, "You'll never be half the man Sir Rogers was."

Indignant rage fills his heart. Sir Rogers? He died in the Second Great War years ago as a hero. Sir Rogers' strength is legendary. Apparently his father had built his impenetrable shield then fought together. When Tony was young, Howard would tell him stories about Sir Rogers. He talked like the man was a god.

 _If he's always standing in Sir Rogers' shadow, how could he possibly live up to his father's standards?_ he asks himself when his father leaves him standing alone in front of the silent crowd. _How could he ever make his father proud?_


	2. Stark Windmill

King Anthony rolls his shoulders back, suit whirring, as he straightens from his stoop. He gives his handiwork one more glance over before nodding his approval. He lifts his head towards the open window and calls, "I'm done down here. How's it looking from up there, partner?"

"Everything's good, partner!" comes the cheerful reply.

Tony smiles, warmth filling his heart. It's been three years since the most wonderful person was thrust so suddenly into his life. And life has never been better. How could anyone have kids and not want anything to do with them? How could they not love everything they do? Even when they do not so great stuff? Being a father is the greatest joy a man can achieve. There's no doubt in Tony's mind. And he is a genius after all, so he must be right.

He powers down the Iron Man suit by the windmill's door and steps out of it as Peter intently watches the mill turbine turn. The windmill design was a joint venture between the two royals, but it was actually Peter's idea to begin with. The mill harnesses the wind's energy to turn the turbine to generate electricity. Stark Windmill is the first of its kind. A beacon of clean energy.

"Levels are holding steady... I think," Peter hesitantly says.

"Of course they are, I was directly involved," Tony says, throwing an arm around the teenager.

"Daaad..." Peter groans while laughing.

"Alright, alright, I guess you were involved, too," Tony says, pulling Peter over to their makeshift table amid the mess of construction equipment. He pours two goblets of imported pineapple juice, Peter's favorite. "Give yourself... 12 percent of the credit."

Peter's jaw drops. "12 percent?!"

"An argument can be made for 15," Tony concedes.

"Whatever, old man. It's my name on the side of the building," Peter cheekily smirks.

Tony rolls his eyes and hands his son a goblet. "Alright, smart ass, let's raise a glass. To us and all our hard work."

"Yeah, cheers."

Their cups emit a low _clunk_ when they tap them together. Just as the two put their goblets to their lips, there's a polite knock at the door. Tony sighs, annoyed that his evening with his son has been interrupted. "What is it?" he calls over his shoulder.

Jarvis cracks the door and pokes his head in. "Sorry to interrupt, sir, but I have a Mr. Coulson here to see you."

"I don't know a Mr. Coulson, send him away. I'm already entertaining a special guest."

"Of course, sir," Jarvis grins then ducks out.

Tony sighs and twists back to Peter. "Sorry about that, bud. Where were we?"

"You should probably talk to that guy, Dad," Peter says, putting his goblet down. "He's probably important. We can celebrate later."

"No, no, Pete, no one's more important than you. Now, come on, drink your juice."

"Sir, I'm afraid he's insisting," Jarvis reappears, looking apologetic.

"Then grow a spine," Tony grumbles into his goblet.

Peter snickers as the stranger presses past Jarvis. Mr. Coulson stands, nonchalant as he says, "I'm sorry to interrupt your evening your Majesty, but I'm afraid it's urgent."

"Then leave your message urgently."

Mr. Coulson sighs then holds out a couple scrolls for Tony to take. "Sir Fury requests your presence, your Majesty."

"I don't like being handed things."

"Well, I do," Peter says, plucking the scrolls from Mr. Coulson.

Peter gets the first scroll unlatched before Tony snatches it out of his hands. "Okay, you've said your piece, Mr. Coulson," Tony says, ignoring a sulking Peter. "Now, run along. I've got a lot of reading to do."

"Of course, your Majesty. The Coalition of Shield hopes to see you soon."

As soon as Jarvis closes the door behind the two of them, Peter grabs Tony's arm and tries to read the scroll. "Ah, ah, ah, this is for my eyes only," Tony says, pulling his arm away.

"But you didn't even want it," Peter says. "And you can't possibly keep a scroll from a super secret organization away from me. It's too cool not to. We're partners, remember?"

Tony feels a stab to his chest at that, but his mind is made up when he reads the name "Sir Steven Rogers" on the top of one of the pages. "Sorry, Pete. This is kingly business."

"But I'm a prince and a superhero. When you add them up it's close enough, right?" Peter asks, pouting.

"Peter..." Tony sighs. "This is the big leagues. I'm going to have to leave the country for this. I need you here were you'll be safe."

"But what about you? Who's gonna keep you safe?"

Tony's mind briefly flashes to Sir Rogers, but he quickly shakes it away. "I can take of myself, Pete. No need to worry about me. I'm King Anthony the Invincible, remember?"

"Yeah, well... I'm Prince Peter the, uh... the Spectacular. No, the Amazing. I can help," he says, pushing Tony's final button.

"Peter," Tony snaps, sudden bitter annoyance making him lash out. "You're not coming, and that's final."

The teen gives his most petulant glare. It's not very intimidating, but it hurts Tony all the same.

"Come on, kid. Don't do this to me," Tony groans, instantly back tracking. He hates fighting with the boy.

Peter averts his eyes and shoves himself away from the table.

"Petey, let's talk about this."

The boy rolls his eyes and stalks toward the door.

Tony scoffs and raises his hands. "Alright, fine. Have your teenage angst. Just go have it somewhere else."

"FINE!" Peter shouts, storming out of the mill and slamming the door behind him.

Tony sighs and scrubs a hand down his face. "Fine," he mumbles, picking up the scrolls again. He's got a lot of homework to do...


	3. A Heart to Heart

"I mean, these scrolls are talking about masters of espionage and genius berserkers. This is going to be dangerous," Tony says, squinting into the candle light. "There's no way I can bring Peter. I'm doing this _for_ him. He's usually so smart, why doesn't he get it?"

Pepper sighs and rubs her eyes sleepily. "Tony, he's a kid. He's scared, he's not thinking rationally. He'll get over it, but you have to give it time. Now, can I go back to sleep? It's the middle of the night."

Tony sighs and waves her off. "Fine. We can talk in the morning."

"Thanks, Tony. Don't stay up all night pacing, alright? Peter will be fine."

"Yes, Ms. Potts."

"Goodnight, your Majesty."

Tony wanders down the hall in the direction of his bedroom, mind still scrambled. Something primal grips him when a scream tears down the hall.

_Peter._

Tony sprints down the hall toward the kid's room, skidding around corners. He finds Jarvis outside Peter's door. Tony dismisses him with a hand on his shoulder and pushes past him. "Peter? Petey, it's okay. I'm here," he says softly, approaching the thrashing figure on the bed.

Peter doesn't wake from his sleep. He just whimpers and irritably kicks his legs. The covers must be making him feel restrained. After his years as a slave, constantly chained and collared, Peter can barely tolerate jewelry or even tight clothes.

"Kiddo, it's okay, it's okay."

Tony places a hand on his son's sweaty back, and Peter's eyes fly open. He reflexively grabs Tony's arm, clenching down with his super strength. "No, don't! Your Excellency, please. _Please!_ " Peter whimpers, eyes still glazed with sleep. But Tony knows what to do. This particular nightmare is common, unfortunately.

"Petey, Petey, it's okay," Tony says quickly, covering Peter's hand with his free one. "Stane's gone, Osborn's gone. It's just me and you."

Peter's frantic eyes slowly focus on Tony's face. "M-Mr... Dad?"

"Yeah, it's me, Petey."

The iron fist around his forearm loosens then shakily lets go. Then comes the first sob of many.

"It's okay, bud," he whispers, pulling Peter close. "It's okay. I'm here now. It's okay."

"Dad, don't let them take me."

"I won't. You're staying here with me. Forever and ever. No one will ever take you from my arms again."

"But you're leaving."

Tony closes his eyes and sighs. "You'll be okay, Pete. You're a superhero, remember? You're my strong, brave little boy."

"But you're my dad, and... I don't want you to go," Peter cries.

"I know, buddy. But I have to. People need me."

"I need you."

"Petey..."

"I wanna come with you."

"Petey..."

"Why won't you let me?" Peter asks, sitting up and locking his suddenly angry, teary eyes with Tony's. "I have powers! I can help."

Tony thinks over his words as he stares deep into his son's beautiful eyes. "I... I don't want to force you into something you're not ready for. You’re too young for this. You don’t have enough experience. But most of all... I don’t want to lose you.”

Peter's eyes fill with tears again. He dives into his father's arms and whimpers, "I don't wanna lose you either."

Tony doesn't respond. He doesn't know how to. He just holds his son close and slowly rocks him back and forth. Peter eventually stops crying then falls into a peaceful sleep. Tony doesn't move from Peter's room like he usually does when the boy has a nightmare. He just settles down in Peter's bed with his son held close. Peter snorts and shifts at one point in the night, making Tony laugh softly. He presses a kiss to Peter's hair and whispers, "I love you."

It's the most true statement he's ever said.


	4. On My Own

Peter heaves a sigh from his perch in the church tower above a quiet street. It's a slow night for crime. Spider-Manning was his favorite way to relieve the incredible amount of stress that comes when his dad leaves the kingdom. Dad gets nervous about his crime fighting, but he worries Peter when he leaves so... payback.

After a couple more minutes of silence and yawning, Peter webs his way back to the castle. He uses the super-secret entrance Dad built him to get back into his room discreetly. Karen sits on his bed, looking up from her book when Peter drops to the ground. She stands and reaches out to help him with the suit. "Cutting it a little close to curfew, aren't we?" she says, quirking an eyebrow at the prince.

"Eh, it was rough night," Peter murmurs, avoiding his governess' knowing gaze. "Criminals were just... everywhere. Thieves and murderers and... you know. Bad guys."

"Mm hm. So this has nothing to do with the fact that his Majesty left early this morning?"

And of course she's right. And she knows it. So Peter doesn't even need to answer.

Karen found out about Peter's abilities during one of his lessons. Peter was babbling away, like he's prone to do, when he accidentally said something along the lines of "and then Dad jumped out of his hiding space, so I got scared and stuck to the ceiling". She understandably had a lot of questions. Dad had to step in and explain it to her. He didn't even have to threaten her about telling anyone. And she quickly filled the role of Spider-Man's handler when his dad isn't available. Karen's also an incredible source of information on crime in the kingdom, given that she spent her early years living on the streets.

Peter snaps out of his reverie at the sharp sound of knuckles rapping against his door. Pepper steps through the threshold, giving Peter a sad smile. "How was patrol, sweetie?" she asks.

"Good."

"Karen?" she turns, asking the more reliable source.

"He's not injured, m'Lady. Just a little upset, I think," Karen answers.

Pepper sighs and gently pulls Peter in for a hug. "Tony will be okay," she says. "He has you to come home to. They won't kill him. He won't let them. Okay?"

Peter closes his eyes to keep the tears at bay. "I know," he whispers, feeling Pepper's fingers comb through his hair.

~%~%~%~

Peter watches the students of the Royal School of Science and Technology wander around the base of Stark Windmill. They talk to each other, sketching the structure for their class. The jealousy that flashes through his heart surprises him. As a prince, he's not supposed to fraternize with people his age. Sure, he can talk to children of his dad's court, but they think he's weird. They don't get his love of science. And it's not like he goes to school. He loves his dad, Pepper, Rhodey, Jarvis, and Karen (and Happy, but he's not sure the sentiment is reciprocated), but sometimes he just wants to be a kid.

In short, it's lonely being a prince.

He would have went on watching from the royal tent higher up on the lawn for the rest of the afternoon, but the hairs on the back of his neck stick up. A distant _bang_ tickles Peter's ear. He twists in his seat to catch the dust falling back to the ground, the tail end of an... explosion?

Peter looks around, gauging people's reactions. Nobody seems to realize something is amiss. He was probably the only person who heard the explosion, due to his super-hearing. The need to do something rears deep inside him. He wanted a distraction? It doesn't get better than this.

Attempting to be somewhat discreet, he leans over and whispers in Pepper's ear. She's filling in for his dad while he's away. "I've gotta use the chamber pot."

Pepper nods and waves him off. Peter quickly stands from his chair and squeezes around the royal guards. His dad gets paranoid when he's gone while Rhodey's on a mission. There's no one to stave off a potential threat, so he doubles the security. Two of the guards start to follow him towards the castle, but he stops them. "I'm just going to the bathroom, you don't gotta follow me."

"You know the rules, your Highness," the older one chides.

Peter rolls his eyes. His dad told them to follow him closely whenever he was outside the castle. Just in case. "I'm just running to the chamber pot. I'll be okay from here to the outhouse."

The two guards exchange looks. "Alright," he concedes. "Just to the outhouse and back, your Highness."

"Thanks," Peter smiles, then quickly walks in the direction of the outhouse. Once he's blocked from the guards line of sight, he breaks into a run. After a few quick cursory glances for bystanders, Peter sticks to the side of the castle and crawls up to his window to grab his suit.

Once his mask is covering his face, he webs out to the high castle walls. He crouches on the edge and focuses his hearing in the direction he heard the explosion. _This is going to be dangerous,_ he thinks to himself. _But if I can stop whatever's going on in the kingdom, maybe Dad will think I'm strong enough to join the big leagues with him._

Peter takes a deep breath, then dives off the wall. _Here comes Spider-Man._


	5. Reindeer Games

Tony can't sleep. The stupid carriage rattles too much, Jarvis snores, and Peter isn't here. The goodbye was as teary eyed as the night before. He had to practically peel the kid off him when it was time to leave. It broke his heart, but he had to leave. To save the world. Right? He huffs and angrily tosses his blanket away. He turns to the window and strains his eyes peering out into the darkness.

A quiet, thought filled hour later, the carriage draws to a shuttering stop. Tony frowns, listening to the horses shifting in their harnesses and quiet voices out front. He reaches a suspicious hand toward his armor. He and Peter have been working on adding mini crossbows to the forearms. No swords needed for damage. Tony's movements get faster and more frantic as the footsteps move closer. He primes his crossbow and shoves it the face of the man that opens the cabin door.

The familiar man startles and takes a step back. "Whoa, whoa! Your Majesty, I-"

"Coulson?" Tony asks, dropping his arm. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I-I was sent to intercept you," he says, clutching his chest. "There's a situation. We need your help."

"What? It's the middle of the night. What do you need me for?"

"Loki has been spotted nearby. We don't know what he's planning, but it can't be good. Sir Rogers has already been deployed, and you're only one kingdom over."

"Oh, let me guess, I'm backup," Tony grumbles, rolling his eyes.

"You're the reinforcement. We have a fresh horse, so suit up."

~%~%~%~

Tony deactivates his crossbows as the quote-unquote _wizard_ raises his hands in surrender. He doesn't take his eyes off the captive, but he does give his teammate a stiff greeting. "Sir Rogers."

The knight gives a righteous nod in return. "Your Majesty."

Tony rolls his eyes. He has a feeling he's going to be doing that a lot in the next couple of days.

They chain the greasy criminal in the back of the carriage. Surprisingly, he sits quietly without fuss. He almost looks... smug. It honestly pisses Tony off. Smug haughtiness is usually his thing. And he doesn't like when people take his things.

Apparently Sir Rogers is thinking along the same lines. "I don't like it," he murmurs behind a gloved hand.

"What, Reindeer Games giving up so easily?"

"I don't remember it ever being this easy. This guy packs a wallop."

Tony gives him a funny look. "Still, you're pretty spry for an older fellow. What's your thing? Snake oil?"

"What?"

"It's like a cure-all. You might have missed a few things while you were, you know, dead and on ice."

A small crease appears between Sir Rogers' eyes. He fully turns to face Tony and give him a not-so-subtle once over. "Sir Fury didn't tell me he was calling you in."

"Yeah, there's a lot of things Sir Fury doesn't tell you," Tony shoots back.

Sir Rogers' chest seems to puff up with the sharpness in his gaze, but a clap of thunder interrupts them. Tony raises an eyebrow at Loki's sudden unease. It's the most off kilter he's looked all night. "What's the matter? Afraid of a little lightning," Sir Rogers taunts.

"I'm not overly fond of what follows," the, ahem, _wizard_ says.

In the next couple of seconds, multiple things happen. First, the ground vibrates violently, shaking the carriage and throwing its occupants off balance. Second, Tony and Sir Rogers are blasted towards the front of the carriage, away from their captive by a gust of wind that busts open the back of the cabin. And finally, a tall, broad chested man with long, flowing, golden locks yanks at Loki's chains. When Tony blinks again, the two are gone, and the heavy metal chain lays broken on the floor.

What the...? How the hell did they break through the chains?

"They might actually be magical," Sir Rogers groans, rubbing his head.

Tony's eyes roll on their own accord. It's like they're programmed to every time the man speaks. "Magic's not real. It's just the art of misdirection. Trickery." Tony presses himself up, suit whirring as he readies himself to jump out of the carriage after them.

"Your Majesty, we need a plan of attack!"

Another eye roll. How does he maintain his perfect politeness in the face of duress? "I have a plan. Attack," he dead-pans. Who's Sir Rogers to tell him what to do? He's a king, for god's sake...

What a prick.


	6. The Vulture

Peter watches as two men stack boxes outside a house with dark windows late in the night. Nothing blatantly nefarious has happened yet, but his spidey-senses are telling him that something is wrong. The danger sense spikes when they're both standing by their carriage. One crouches down by a rope laying by the carriage wheel and strikes two flint rocks together.

It isn't until the fire catches that Peter realizes the rope is a fuse.

He swings into action, rushing to snuff out the fire. The demolitionists startle and shout, "Run! It's the Spider-Freak!"

"It's Spider-Man," Peter grumbles, stomping on the flame. Unfortunately, his ministrations don't do enough to put it out. The flame reaches the boxes, causing an explosion similar to that of the one earlier in the day to knock down the door.

Screams come from within the house. Peter flinches at the sound, causing him to miss the criminals sneaking up behind him. One of the men grabs Peter from behind tries to drag him backwards as the other one runs into the house with a club and rope. Peter flips the man attacking him onto his back, then spins around to look at the carriage again. It has an extended cabin, typically used for extra cargo. The horrible feeling in Peter's gut doubles as his mind finally connects the dots.

They're slavers.

Another shrill scream comes from the house. "No, please! PLEASE! Not my boy, please! Take me instead! Take me-!" The voice cuts off abruptly.

Peter sees red. He kicks the man on the ground in front of them with a heavy foot, then sprints through the smoldering remains of the door. He follows the frantic heartbeats into the next room where the man is roughly dragging a squirming young boy by the hair. His hands are tied, and a gag is stuffed in his mouth. The woman who must have been screaming earlier is laying prone on the floor, out cold. The slaver drops the kid and raises his club with a snarl. "Stay out of our business, you little freak!"

For once, Peter doesn't have a witty comeback. The anger doesn't let him. He just aims his web shooters at the slaver's face. The man screams and drops his club to scratch at his face. Peter sweeps his legs out from under him and webs him to the ground. He ignores the stream of curses and slides over to the shaking boy. "It's okay, it's okay," Peter says, making quick work of the knots.

Once the gag falls from his mouth, the kid whispers, "Wh-What happened? Why's mommy sleeping?"

Peter swallows hard. He doesn't want to answer. "It's okay, buddy. She'll wake up in a bit. Is anyone else home?"

The boy shakes his head.

"Okay. Just, uh... wait here with your mom. She'll know what to do when she wakes up."

The boy nods and scrambles over to his mother. Peter straightens as well, hefting the slaver up on his shoulder. He turns to check in on the boy one more time and finds him staring at Peter with a dropped jaw. "Who are you?" he asks, eyes wide.

"I'm Spider-Man."

"Whoa..."

"See ya around, kid."

The boy's hopeful smile sticks with Peter the next few nights. He sees it as he stops two more attempted kidnappings. They all use the same explosive technique. On the fifth night during the third attempt, the developing routine is interrupted by metal wings and skull sized talons.

Peter's just finishing webbing the slavers to various stationary objects for the royal guards to find in the morning, when something swoops in from the night sky. The only warning Peter gets is the moon momentarily being blocked out. The next second, a painful pressure grips him by the shoulders and lifts him into the air. Peter yells and kicks his legs. It's what his dad said to do if someone tried to take him again. He tries to use his super-strength to pry the talons apart, but he's too disoriented to do any real damage.

He's carried too high for comfort and dangled over a lake. The masked man holds him in front of his face and hisses, "Quit meddling, Spider-Dude. I'm not the kind of guy you wanna mess with. So leave us alone, and I won't have to kill you. Deal?"

Before he can respond, the talons release him. He screams a rather unflattering scream and plunges into the freezing waters below. Luckily, swimming was one of the skills his dad thought essential for a prince to know. When he makes it to shore, sputtering and panting, he growls, "It's Spider- _Man_."

And for once, his nightmares aren't filled with his dad dying or Lord Osborn branding him. That night, Peter dreams of his uncle and aunt's deaths. He watches as Aunt May is clubbed until she stops moving. He watches as Uncle Ben throws himself in front of Peter only to have his throat slit. Peter tries to escape from the man with the bloody knife and the coarse rope approaching with an ugly smile, but the moment he turns to run, a strong hand grabs his leg. He spends the next couple nights in a carriage cabin, wrists and ankles chained to the wall. He doesn't cry. He's too numb for that. The other occupants cry and scream and thrash and spit, but Peter just sits. Incidentally, this is a good thing. He's the only one who isn't beaten before they arrive at their destination.

Peter wakes with the sensation of his first slave master grabbing his shoulder with an iron grip. He throws the covers off and runs down the hall. It isn't until he's standing beside his dad's empty bed that he remembers. Peter sniffles and crawls under the covers, pressing a pillow to his face. Hopefully Pepper won't mind a late breakfast. It's going to be a while before he can bring himself to leave the bed.


End file.
